“One”—I stuck a finger in the air—“no one knows who Natalie is. Two”—another finger—“no one knows who I am. Three”—you get the point with the fingers—“there is no record at the chapel Natalie ever got married. Four, the minister I saw conducting the wedding swears it never happened. Five, the lady who owned the coffee shop we used to go to and who first pointed Natalie out to me had no idea who I was and didn’t remember either Natalie or me.”
I put my hand down.
“Oh, and Natalie’s art retreat?” I said. “The Creative Recharge Colony? It’s not there and everyone swears it never existed and that it’s always been a family-run farm. In short, I think I’m losing my mind.”
Benedict turned away and started sipping his beer.
“What?” I said.
“Nothing.”
I gave him a little shove. “No, come on. What is it?”
Benedict kept his head lowered. “Six years ago, when you went up to that retreat, you were in pretty bad shape.”
“Maybe a little. So?”
“Your father had died. You felt alone. Your dissertation wasn’t going well. You were upset and on edge. You were angry about Trainor getting off with nary a slap.”
“What’s your point?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Forget it.”
“Don’t give me that. What?”
My head was really swimming now. I should have stopped several glasses ago. I remembered once when I had too much to drink my freshman year and I started walking back to my dorm. I never quite arrived. When I woke up, I was lying on top of a bush. I remembered staring up at the stars in the night sky and wondering why the ground felt so prickly. I had that sway now, like I was on a boat in a rough sea.
“Natalie,” Benedict said.
“What about her?”
He turned those glass-magnified eyes toward me. “How come I never met her?”
My vision was getting a little fuzzy. “What?”
“Natalie. How come I never met her?”
“Because we were in Vermont the whole time.”
“You never came to campus?”
“Just once. We went to Judie’s.”
“So how come you didn’t bring her by to meet me?”
I shrugged with a little too much gusto. “I don’t know. Maybe you were away?”
“I was here all that summer.”
Silence. I tried to remember. Had I tried to introduce her to Benedict?
“I’m your best friend, right?” he said.
“Right.”
“And if you married her, I would have been the best man.”
“You know it.”
“So don’t you find it bizarre that I never met her?” he asked.
“When you put it that way . . .” I frowned. “Wait, are you trying to make a point here?”
“No,” he said quietly. “It’s just odd is all.”
“Odd how?”
He said nothing.
“Odd like I-made-her-up odd? Is that what you mean?”
“No. I’m just saying.”
“Saying what?”
“That summer. You needed something to hold on to.”
“And I found it. And lost it.”
“Okay, fine, drop it.”
But, no, that would not do. Not right now. Not with my anger and the drink talking. “And speaking of which,” I said, “how come I never met the love of your life?”
“What are you talking about?”
Oh man, I was drunk. “The picture in your wallet. How come I never met her?”
It looked as though I’d slapped him across the face. “Leave it alone, Jake.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Leave. It. Alone.”
I opened my mouth, closed it. The ladies reappeared. Benedict gave his head a shake and suddenly the smile was back on it.
“Which one do you want?” Benedict asked me.
I looked at him. “For real?”
“Yes.”
“Windy,” I said.
“Which one is that?”
“Seriously?”
“I’m not good with names,” Benedict said.
“Windy is the one I’ve been talking to all night.”
“In other words,” Benedict said, “you want the hotter one. Fine, whatever.”
I went back to Windy’s place. We took it slow until we took it fast. It wasn’t full-on bliss, but it was awfully sweet. It was around 3:00 A.M. when Windy walked me to the door.
Not sure what to say, I stupidly went with “Uh, thank you.”
“Uh, you’re welcome?”
We kissed lightly on the lips. It wasn’t something that would last, we both knew that, but it was a small, quick delight, and sometimes in this world, there was nothing wrong with that.
I stumbled back across campus. There were students still out. I tried to stay in the shadows, but Barry, the student who visits my office weekly, spotted me and cried out, “Taking the walk of shame, Teach?”
Caught.
I gave him a good-hearted wave and continued serpentine-style to my humble abode.
A sudden head rush hit me as I entered. I stayed still, waiting for my legs to come back to me. When the dizziness receded, I headed into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of ice water. I drank it in big gulps and poured another. I would be hurting tomorrow, no question about it.
Exhaustion weighed down my bones. I stepped into my bedroom and flicked on the light. There, sitting on the edge of my bed, was the man with the maroon baseball cap. I jumped back, startled.
The man gave me a friendly wave. “Hey, Jake. Sheesh, look at you. Have you been out carousing?”
For a second, no more, I just stood there. The man smiled at me as though this were the most natural encounter in the history of the world. He even touched the front of his cap at me, as though he were a professional golfer acknowledging the gallery.
